


Pure

by ashleyerwinner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Complete, Destiel - Freeform, First Kiss, Fluff, Kisses, M/M, One Shot, Purgatory, chick flick moments, confessions of feelings, dean confesses his feelings for cas, purgatory is pure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 20:43:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleyerwinner/pseuds/ashleyerwinner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I miss the color of your eyes."</p><p>Purgatory is pure, even with its disadvantages. The world around him has taken the light and color out of Cas' eyes, and for some reason, Dean counts this as a disadvantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pure

**Author's Note:**

> I want more purgatory scenes.

Purgatory.

It was _pure_. And if Dean was honest, he felt more like himself in purgatory than in the real world, back with Sam.

Fighting in the real world had complications. People always got hurt, innocent people, and Dean had seen enough innocence slaughtered to last a lifetime. In purgatory, no one was innocent, except he and Cas. He half-suspected Cas felt the same way, but the dude was so quiet anymore, Dean couldn’t be sure.

Sometimes Cas got away from him, and Dean would find him within an hour, ignoring the peculiar look on Cas’ usually straight poker-face, wrapping the man in a hug, carefully chastising the angel for making him worry.

“You’re all I got, Cas.” He’d say, and Cas would gulp, and say a reciprocatory statement, and Dean would pull away, face heated from what he assumed was embarrassment. He would search for answers in Cas’ once bright blue eyes, to see darkness shining back at him, dim and dead.

Purgatory was pure, but it was dreadful.

Dean and Cas were public enemies, with a similar theme throughout the horrible monsters that lurked in the dark, dreary place, _kill the angel and the hunter_.

It was impossible to kill the duo, it seemed, and Dean had a collection full of wayward body parts (teeth, claws, sharp extremities) hidden in an underground cave Cas had found when he was separated from Dean in the beginning.

Cas kept a watch out for Dean when he gave into the weariness of sleep, without a notion that Cas wanted to abandon Dean, and give him a chance to live without the constant threat of the monsters following them because they were hunting _Cas_ , not Dean.

Dean woke up every day half-expecting to be in some crummy motel bed, a sense of dread washing over him as he felt the sogginess of the cold dirt in the cave. He opened his eyes, searching for Cas, and always found the man sitting at him, staring at him unabashedly, and relief flooded over him. Cas was always there to protect him. How could he have been so blind before this?

One of the worst parts of purgatory was the lack of color. Purgatory was a washed out color, neutral, blacks, browns, and grays all around him. Blood was the only thing Dean ever saw with any glint of real color, the sheen of red gave him a constant reminder that he was _alive_ , the way he used to feel when he saw the blues of Cas’ eyes.

That blue was gone now, darkened black and dull as Cas watched him.

“I miss the color of your eyes.” He said, and Cas flinched back. Dean bit his tongue, fighting the urge to look away from Cas as he watched the other man struggle for a reply.

Dean continued.

“Your eyes are beautiful, back in the real world.” He said, and Cas looked around wildly, focusing everywhere but Dean. “On earth, anyway. I think that’s why it bothers me so much when you stare at me.” Dean was rambling. “Guys eyes are not supposed to be so damn beautiful.”

“Dean.” Cas said, finally, looking down at his knees. Dean paused for a moment, letting Cas think in silence. It wasn’t long-lived.

“And when you invade my space, man.” Dean chuckled, darker than he would have liked. “It takes me everything not to look at your eyes when you’re that close, man.” Dean shook his head, positioning himself upright to lean on the wall of the cave. “It’s like you did it to taunt me. Like you knew how much I liked ‘em or somethin’.” Dean watched as Cas stirred uncomfortably.

“I just miss the color of your eyes.” Dean said, again, and Cas looked up at him, unblinking.

“If we ever get out of here-“

“ _Dean._ ” Cas interrupted.

“-I will never take you for granted, ever again.” He said, the truth washing out of him. Cas took a sharp intake of breath, his shoulders relaxing. Dean motioned for the angel to come closer, and Cas complied, now seated in front of Dean. The hunter reached forward, watching as Cas’ eyes fluttered shut when Dean cupped the man’s face.

“I’m tired of it all, Cas.” He breathed, his eyes clenched shut, and he felt as Cas’ hand clasped over his. “I’m so damn tired.”

“Tired of what, Dean?” Cas said, finally speaking anything other than his name. Dean’s eyes opened slowly, watching Cas’ eyes study his face.

“Tired of running. Tired of hiding.” Cas looked around the cave, and then back at Dean’s face, confusedly. “In the real world, on earth.” Dean specified. “I don’t want to run away from it anymore.” Dean hoped Cas would get the hint. From his confused face, Dean was guessing he didn’t.

“I don’t understand.” Cas’ voice was a barely audible whisper, and Dean leaned in, pressing his forehead against Cas’. He sighed before answering.

“I’m tired of running… from my feelings for _you_.” He said, clenching his jaw, and hoping that Cas wouldn’t just poof away like he was accustomed to doing any time Dean got personal, or when things got real. He opened his eyes again, unaware of himself closing them, and watched as Cas’ eyes brightened.

He stroked Cas’ jawline with his thumb, eliciting a sharp puff of air from Cas’ lungs. He leaned towards Dean, unsure, and Dean closed the gap between them, his lips furiously hard on Cas’.

Cas reminded him that he was alive, the blood rushing through his veins pumping hard, a million miles an hour. Cas pushed his fingers through Dean’s hair, pulling him closer, harder, and breathed into their rough kiss, his tongue tentatively pushing through Dean’s lips, greeted by the hunter’s own, swirling and dancing together, desperate and needy.

Purgatory was pure.


End file.
